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    Hidden in Myth: An Elven Heritage Collection #2
    Hidden in Myth: An Elven Heritage Collection #2
    Hidden in Myth: An Elven Heritage Collection #2
    Ebook191 pages2 hours

    Hidden in Myth: An Elven Heritage Collection #2

    By Chrissy Wissler

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    About this ebook

    A descendant from a long lost race of elves, Kate Silver knows all about being different. Just not so much about the magic part. Or her powers. Or... controlling it.

    No choice, but to learn—

    Before the forest, and the magic, wakes up.

    The continuing story of Kate Silver as she learns about herself, her magic, and her place in the unfolding mystery surrounding her elven heritage. This collection includes stories five through eight in the spell-binding Elven Heritage Series: "Hidden in Flight," "Hidden in Spirit," "Hidden in Desire," and, "Hidden in Memory."

    "I love this [story]; it was a very fast and clear read. A wonderful coming-of-age fantasy novel." —Dean Wesley Smith, USA Today Bestselling Author, on Hidden in Time

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBlue Cedar Publishing
    Release dateApr 21, 2018
    ISBN9781370497720
    Hidden in Myth: An Elven Heritage Collection #2
    Author

    Chrissy Wissler

    Chrissy’s short fiction has appeared in the anthologies: Fiction River: Risk-Takers, Fiction River Presents: Legacies, Fiction River Presents: Readers' Choice, Deep Magic, and When Dreams Come True (writing as Christen Anne Kelley). She writes fantasy and science fiction, as well as a softball, contemporary series for both romance and young adult (Little League Series and Home Run). Before turning to fiction, Chrissy also wrote many nonfiction articles for publications such as Montana Outdoors, Women in the Outdoors, and Jakes Magazine. In 2009, Inside Kung Fu magazine awarded her with their ‘Writer of the Year’ award. Follow her blog on being a parent-writer at Parents and Prose.

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      Book preview

      Hidden in Myth - Chrissy Wissler

      Hidden in Myth

      Hidden in Myth

      An Elven Heritage Collection

      Chrissy Wissler

      Blue Cedar Publishing

      Contents

      Introduction

      Hidden in Flight

      Hidden in Spirit

      Hidden in Desire

      Hidden in Memory

      Sneak Peak: Hidden in Time

      An Impatient Forest. One Stubborn Girl.

      Also by Chrissy Wissler

      About the Author

      Introduction

      When I sat down to write a story about elves, elves as real people, as race of magical beings who existed some time long ago in our history, I knew the missing ingredient was the actual place . That was important, essential even. A place where I could see these tall, etherial, mystical (and perhaps not always nice) elves walking through, living among, and of course talking, to trees.

      Yes, these elves came from dreams of my childhood, which had been very much inspired by Tolkien, but over the years, they slowly changed... and became something different.

      Something that was mine, but also something very, very familiar.

      Probably because I'd been to that place, where these elves once walked. It's a place that's never left my mind... or my imagination.

      I think I was about... eleven or maybe twelve when my family took a month-long road trip and visited Glacier National Park, in the far, upper-north corner of Montana. I was so surprised by the cold. Here I was, from southern California, and here, in Montana, it was snowing. In August. Shock was a bit of an understatement.

      So was the actual place itself.

      I fell in love with many places on these trips, places that I've carried with me my whole life, taking up their own spot in my heart from Butte, Montana (which you'll soon see was my inspiration for a forthcoming historical mystery series) to Yellowstone (the inspiration for yet another fantasy world). But, there was something... almost otherworldly about Glacier National Park. Maybe because it was the first time I'd seen a bear out in the wild, and a grizzly no less, or maybe it was the brilliant white coats of the mountain goats, who I squinted and tried my darn best to see on those black, rocky mountains (and never did spot—despite my dad swearing he was lookin' right one through the binoculars).

      I hope you enjoy these next four stories in the Elven Heritage Series, stories that were inspired from this mystical place in Montana.

      Kate's story is far from done. She and I are still exploring the past, but it only seemed fitting for you, readers, to have place where they were all together, to read as if they were one, continuous story (which they are).

      I can't describe Glacier or do it any manner of justice here, but it certainly left its touch on my heart, and I think on my soul. I hope you will see that awe and love come through in these stories of Kate Silver and her own, missing heritage, and those elves who I just knew walked here at some time...

      A long time ago, perhaps, and left bits of themselves, and their magic behind.

      At least, that's what I believe anyway...

      —Chrissy Wissler

      Torrance, CA

      March, 2018

      Hidden in Flight

      Hidden in Flight

      Kate did her best, her absolute best, not to slam the behemoth truck’s door behind her.

      The heavy metal of the door, all banged up and dented from God-knows-what (Grandma probably hitting a deer or two, or hell, maybe a moose). The red, slightly rusted and peeling paint seemed to slide off by the bucket-load. She dug her toes into the gravel ground of the grocery store parking lot, white tennis shoes no longer white but scuffed and dirty. The loose gravel shifted and gave way to her temper. And why gravel? Because here in Lighthome, Montana, they didn’t exactly have a lot of money lying about for things like nicely paved, perfectly smooth roads. And why would they need them? It wasn’t as if this was a hot spot for tourists, or hell, even visitors. In fact, this town, just like her grandmother, did absolutely everything possible to ensure that anyone who happened to stop on by wanted to leave.

      Immediately.

      The heat from the midday sun beat down on her, soaking through her shirt and making her sweat in seconds. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn black after all. Maybe she should have actually listened to grandmother, too, about leaving the jeans at home.

      And that was all she was supposed to do? Just listen to her grandmother? Take everything she said on faith and simply trust the old bat?

      Kate dug her fingers into that hard, cool metal, doing her absolute best to not throw her own temper tantrum.

      And would have totally succeeded, too, slinging her beat-up backpack over her shoulder, preparing to run away without damaging that monstrous beast of a truck…if Grandma hadn’t opened her mouth.

      Again.

      Don’t you walk away from me. Kate!

      So, Kate slammed the door. Then, before Grandma got another word in, she stormed right into the small, closest-sized grocery store with its peeling-paint letters: Lighthome Groceries. Not as if she could avoid her grandmother for long, not when the store was the size of a thimble, but at least Kate had a few minutes of alone time, a few minutes to orientate herself and figure out what the hell she was going to do next.

      She covered her slightly pointed ears with her long hair, hair that couldn’t decide if some days it wanted to be blond and other days, a not-pretty version of it with all the dark it had going on. She darted in just as the sliding doors opened, patting hair over ears as she stepped over this threshold from private to very public. It was, in truth, a gesture as automatic as breathing…even though it apparently didn’t matter, at least not here.

      Here, in this small, tiny-ass town called Lighthome, parked next to Glacier National Park, in the furthermost tip of Montana, where Google Maps didn’t even know the damn place existed…well, that didn’t stop everyone here from knowing about her.

      Including the cashier at the old-style checkout counter, who suddenly flushed and busied himself with rearranging the bills in the cash register.

      At least Grandma had timed their weekly grocery trip perfectly so this place wasn’t packed with the rush hour traffic. Of course, Kate easily picked up the distant conversations in the store…from the manager’s whispered phone conversation (to someone important sounding named Aila) to those little old ladies gossiping about the latest—which, of course, was Kate.

      All of which so didn’t make her feel any better.

      How was she supposed to know what she could and could not do?

      This was totally new to her! She knew absolutely nothing about her heritage, who she was, where she came from, all because her stupid mom had refused—for Kate’s entire life—to say anything, anything at all, about it.

      And now here Kate was, holed up with a grandmother she’d only met three weeks ago, who got all mad when Kate made a mistake.

      All this stupid elf-descendant stuff, stuff that her mom had willfully kept from her (and then dumped her here and ran off). All Kate wanted was the truth, except no one—including Grandma—would freakin’ tell her!

      So of course she made a silly, practically minor mistake.

      It hadn’t been her fault.

      Kate swerved on the tile floor and stalked into the one aisle that gave her some amount of comfort, a tiny reminder of home and a normal life.

      The cereal aisle.

      Kate shoved her hands into her jeans and one finger poked out the hole she’d always thought was rather trendy. She passed the little old ladies, their eyes widening when they saw her, their conversation vanishing.

      You’d think they’d seen a ghost. Or, to be truthfully, an elf descendant who’d made the mistake of crossing into the veil, some magical boundary thing separating their world from, apparently, this whole big universe of worlds.

      And she’d done it. On her own. Without help or guidance.

      Kate picked up speed.

      Her eagle had been there, helping her. And there had been that face…just a glimpse, really, urging her to do this. In his comforting, safe voice, telling her to find answers. Find answers. Learn the truth.

      The ladies, all wrinkles and hair curls of them, got so pale it looked like they might need a 911 call (as if this town even had an ambulance; Kate hadn’t seen a hint of one yet!).

      Maybe she wasn’t being fair to their poor, beating hearts. Maybe they really did believe Kate was a ghost. After all, wasn’t a local legend technically a ghost? At least, one from the past?

      What are you looking at? she asked them.

      If they said anything, Kate didn’t hear because she stomped her boots, hoping to block out their words. Dodging locals, she decided, was not trendy at all. Maybe they could see her bad mood and that was why they paled as if they were ready to faint. Which would mean it had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with the local elf legends, even though (not by her choice) she happened to be part of them.

      But even that wasn’t entirely true. She’d had a choice. She could stay, learn who she was, or leave and never come back. Which was why she knew her mother was patiently waiting by the phone in whatever new city she decided to hide herself in (Billings, according to Grandma), expecting Kate’s frantic call any minute, demanding that she come get her.

      I’m not leaving, Kate whispered. Not until I have answers.

      Answers Grandma was determined to keep from her. And hadn’t she proved herself already? Facing down Alfeim Forest, which before had hated her and now tolerated her? Then there was her shadow—her spirit guide—who had finally decided to stop being a shadow.

      You’d think that counted for something. You know, a few hints of her heritage here and there. Kate snorted. Not according to Grandma.

      And going on her own like that, well, it wasn’t like she’d thought it would actually work.

      Even from deep in the store, over the gossiping ladies (whom Kate had now given even more to gossip about), over the clerk stocking the cereal boxes, Kate heard the distinct slam of her grandmother’s truck door. If Grandma wanted to hassle it out in the middle of the store, Kate was more than happy to oblige. Not that Grandma would; not when it was about their heritage.

      She paused, one foot raised mid-stomp. Maybe that’s what she should do. A good ol’ public fight might jar her grandmother’s stubbornness and give Kate some much-deserved answers.

      Kate headed back up the cereal aisle, ignoring the newest marshmallow-limited edition to Lucky Charms, and felt someone tap her shoulder.

      She spun, expecting to see her grandmother, who must have snuck up using her special gifts, except Grandma wasn’t there. Kate was alone, with the exception of the clerk who fumbled with his cereal boxes when he noticed her looking at him.

      Was there someone…?

      The clerk practically jumped out of his skin, dropping a box of Golden Grahams, which split open and a sea of square honey cereal flooded the floor.

      Ah, sorry.

      She would have helped since she’d clearly been the cause (though she hadn’t actually done anything to frighten the boy), but he took off. All he needed was to raise his arms and scream. It’d make this a perfect day.

      Kate! Grandma roared, her voice echoing from the front of the store.

      Great, just great. Maybe her day would be perfect after all.

      Whatever. It was probably her imagination anyway. She turned.

      A hand clamped down on her shoulder.

      Kate didn’t hesitate. She swung her backpack out, heavy books leading the charge, striking right where the guy would—

      Be?

      Her backpack carried her through the swing as she struck nothing but air. She skidded back on the tile, readjusting her grip.

      She wasn’t crazy. She was many things, even some descendant from an ancient elf or whatever, but she was not crazy.

      Someone had touched her.

      A ghost? Grandma hadn’t said anything about a ghost.

      Could it be her spirit guide? But no, Eagle wouldn’t be here, not in a grocery store where nothing of the natural world existed.

      Kate frowned. Was all this hocus-pocus making her jumpy?

      Be fair, she said aloud. You believe in it too.

      She held her backpack at the ready, expecting someone to materialize out of the air, but she remained alone—except for Grandma, who was heading this way.

      Whatever she’d felt, whether someone had actually been there or whether it was her imagination taking her paranoia a giant step further, hardly mattered. Not when Grandma stormed down the aisle, her frayed pink shawl flapping behind her like a cape.

      Definitely not Superman, or Wonder Woman, not with a wrinkled—and really pissed off—face like that.

      Damn it.

      Grandma’s eyes narrowed, white hair streaming behind her, revealing delicate pointed ears, ears just like Kate’s. It was as if Grandma had a homing beacon on Kate, as if she knew exactly where to find her.

      Apparently everyone did these days, which really pissed her off. Couldn’t she be alone for a few freaking minutes?

      Kate lowered her backpack, but didn’t relax her stance. She’d swing again if that phantom hand decided to get friendly. She’d show him—or her—or whatever it was.

      What are you doing?

      Grandma

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